Opportunity Knocks
by Scribe Teradia
Summary: Post-epilogue. Theo discovers his wife  Pansy  has been having an affair with Ron Weasley. Hijinks ensue. Rated for lots of F words.
1. Chapter 1  Perhaps

**Disclaimer:** I'm not J.K. Rowling. I just like to do inappropriate things with her characters.

**Author's Note:** This fic is currently in incomplete status; it was meant to be 13 parts, from an lj prompt table (each chapter is named for its prompt). I'm posting what I have written because it's a fun read, but I make no promises about when I might continue to work on it. (Feel free to beg, though, it tends to provide incentive.)

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><p><strong>Opportunity Knocks<strong>

_by Scribe Teradia_

**Chapter 1 - Perhaps**

"You're being awfully civilized about this."

"I can afford to be. There was a reason I had you draft that prenuptial agreement."

"You suspected this would happen?"

"A proper Slytherin should be prepared for every eventuality, Blaise, you know that as well as I do."

"Still..."

"I didn't foresee walking in on her fucking the Weasel, if that's what you're getting at."

"There's the Theo I know and love."

"Fuck off, Blaise."

"Your capacity for profanity never fails to astound."

"Just tell me what I need to hear."

"That's my boy. Everything is in order, of course. I was quite thorough in making sure that your assets were protected in the event your spouse was unfaithful. I wonder if Granger was this well prepared."

"That's her business, isn't it?"

"Come on, Theo, you can't tell me you aren't at least a little curious."

"Not in the slightest."

"You walked in on _your_ wife fucking _her_ husband, and you're telling me you're not at all interested in how she's handling it? I call bullshit."

"Your capacity for profanity never fails to astound, Blaise."

"Personally, I hope she takes the Weasel for everything he has."

"That'll get her a cup of tea and maybe a scone if she's lucky."

"It's nice to know your sarcasm and wit are as sharp as ever."

"Married life hasn't been _that_ dull."

"I beg to differ, given the reason behind your pending divorce."

"Don't make me have to hurt you."

"Sorry, mate, but you know you're never going to live this one down."

"I _am_ going to have to hurt you."

"Not the face!"

"I swear to Salazar I'm going to hex you into next week if you don't shut the fuck up."

"All right! You win! I still think you should go check up on Granger. Think she'll go back to being just Granger now?"

"The hell if I know."

"Oh, come off it, Theo, we both know you fancied her back in school."

"That's entirely untrue."

"Would I lie to you?"

"At the drop of a fucking hat."

"All right, that's fair, but I'm not lying about this. I know you, Theo, better than anyone. You fancied the chit, I know you did."

"Perhaps."

"And now is the perfect opportunity to seek her out again. If nothing else, you can give her my card."

"Ah. The plot thickens."

"Please. I'd take her case on for free if she asked me, just to rip the Weasel into little pieces, and that was before I knew your soon-to-be-ex-wife was shagging him. Now it's a win for everyone involved."

"Excepting the Weasel."

"That's a given. Theo, man, think about it, will you? I can't _approach_ her, that's hardly Slytherin."

"I suppose I can find an excuse to drop by that won't look too terribly suspicious."

"No one does evil like you do, Theo. It's one of the things I've always admired about you."

"And the documents?"

"This afternoon's mail. Feel free to throw her out on her arse before then, though, the documents are just a formality, at this point."

"You're my hero, Blaise."

"Fuck off, Theo."


	2. Chapter 2  Just Like Everyone Else

**Disclaimer:** I'm not J.K. Rowling. I just like to do inappropriate things with her characters.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 - Just Like Everyone Else<strong>

As it turned out, Theo didn't have to think up an excuse to drop in on Granger, because she came to him.

He'd returned from his meeting with Blaise to find that Pansy had already packed her things. Their parting had been amicable up until she'd hissed venomously that she didn't need anything from him because she was _in love_ (with the bloody fucking Weasel, of all people), and he'd refrained from snapping that she sounded like a sappy fucking Hufflepuff, even though she did. Frankly, he appreciated the lack of drama, though Pansy had never been the drama queen of their class; that honor had been divided evenly between Potter and Malfoy.

It was three days before he thought of Hermione, and even then it was only because his secretary informed him that a Ms Granger had come by to see him just as he was getting ready to leave for lunch. Against his better judgment, he gave in to curiosity and invited her to lunch with him. The indecision on her face at his invitation reminded him keenly of when he used to watch her back in school (which annoyed him because it meant that Blaise was right, the arrogant bastard), but she ended up accepting, and he took her to a small cafe tucked away in Muggle London. It was the kind of place where no one would look at them too closely, or ask too many questions, the kind of place where they could pretend to be just like everyone else.

Once they'd placed their orders, she dispensed with even the pretense of small talk. "I need your help."

"Asking a Slytherin for help? What would your nearest and dearest say?" He knew it was childish and petty to bring up such trivial things as old House rivalries when they were two decades removed from the halls of Hogwarts, but he couldn't resist baiting her.

Her eyes narrowed, the annoyance clear on her face. "I don't care. I can't ask anyone else, and I'd like to think we're old enough to have moved past such things as how we were Sorted, given how long it's been."

In spite of himself, Theo was impressed that she'd pegged him so neatly. Assuming a more businesslike manner, he gave her a curt nod. "Well spoken. What can I do for you?"

She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, the indecision back on her face. "I was hoping you could refer me to your solicitor." He'd half expected as much, but before he could say anything she continued, "I don't... _We_ don't have very many assets, and it's never been an issue, anyway, I can take care of myself. It's about the children."

Strange that he'd forgotten that she and the Weasel had _spawn_. On some level, he'd been aware of it, of course, the birth announcements had been prominently displayed in the paper in much the same manner as Potter's whelps, but his rational brain had trouble reconciling the image of the bushy-haired bookworm with the idea of maternity. He cleared his throat, waited for the waitress to leave their meals, and then asked, his voice perfectly civil, "What about the children?" All the while trying to remember how many brats she had.

"Ronald wants them." She was looking down at her plate, and Theo paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, watching her. Her eyes lifted, displaying openly her worry and sadness and regret and hurt, and he had the irrational urge to rip the Weasel apart with his bare hands for doing this to her. "He's trying to have me declared an unfit mother, says that he and Pansy can do a better job of raising them." The words spilled out, one after the other, the Gryffindor tendency to provide entirely too much information, and Theo was still too stunned by her first sentence to interrupt her. "I've cut back my hours at the Ministry, even though Rose is at Hogwarts and Hugo's old enough he doesn't need to be babied every second of the day. It's bad enough he left me for _her_, bad enough I didn't even _know_ that there was anything going on, but I can't let him have my babies, I just _can't_."

Theo tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and passed it across the table, ate the bite of food that was on his fork, then fished Blaise's card from another pocket, holding it out to her as she dabbed at the tears on her face. "Blaise Zabini. He's the best there is, he's handled all of my legal affairs since we graduated."

It took her several minutes to calm down enough to take the card, and she looked doubtful. "I don't know if I can afford this." Clearly, Blaise's reputation preceded him.

"Don't worry about it," Theo said, with a wave of his hand. "I have it on very good authority that he's more than willing to take your case."

Her eyes narrowed again, this time with suspicion. "Have you been talking about me behind my back, Mr. Nott?"

Theo rolled his eyes and snorted. "Theo, please. He might have dropped your name the other day when I was having my divorce papers drafted. I believe what he said was that he'd be glad of an opportunity to rip into the Weasel, and for you he'd do it for free."

She pursed her lips in what he thought might be disapproval at the old nickname, but then she smiled, and he found himself rather disturbed by how that smile made him feel. "Weasel, indeed." Tucking the card away, she turned her attention back to her food.

Something she'd said nagged at him, and Theo frowned for a moment before venturing to ask, "So, you didn't know?"

Her expression fell to pieces, and he could have kicked himself for having been the cause of more distress. "I didn't know," she said, quietly. When she looked up at him again, he could see the hurt clearly in her eyes, and again wanted to hex the Weasel into oblivion. "Is it pathetic that I still love him?'

Yes. "Not at all," Theo lied smoothly, reaching across the table to pat her hand. Electricity sparked between them, or at least it did in his fevered imagination; he guessed by her lack of reaction that it had only been in his head. "Are you still in the house?"

She shook her head, her expression so sweetly vulnerable that he was starting to feel like a bloody Gryffindor. "I left, with Hugo, the night he brought _her_ home. I should have kicked him out, I know, but I was too hurt and too angry and too shocked to get into the fight he was expecting, so I ran." Her lips curved into a faintly rueful smile. "We've been staying with my parents. It's the only place I could think of where he had no way to get to us. I know it's not very Gryffindor of me to just run and hide, but I'm still trying to deal with how everything just fell apart."

"It's understandable." It was odd to see her so unsure of herself, and he vowed to himself that he'd make sure the Weasel paid, one way or another. In blood, if necessary. He cleared his throat, tried to maintain a more professional state of mind, but it was harder than he'd ever have expected. "You know, it might help your case if you had a place of your own. Rather than relying on your parents, I mean. Proof that you can support yourself and your children."

"I know." She was picking at her food without eating it, and Theo had the feeling she was as lacking in appetite as he was. "I don't know where to even begin looking, though."

Silence, for half a minute, and then Theo found himself saying, "I have a place." She looked at him sharply, suspicious all over again, and he raised both hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture. "Not like that. Strictly a business arrangement. My company's acquired some property recently here in town, it's been vacant for a while so it's a bit of a mess, but there's some historical value involved, and quite the collection of books, from what I've been told."

The word 'books' had her eyes lighting up like a child at Christmas. "Books?" The eager expression on her face had him thinking thoughts that were in no way whatsoever appropriate, and he tried desperately to refocus on the issue at hand.

"Among other things, yes. The main quarters are livable, but there's a fair amount of cleaning and other work to be done. Will that be a problem?" he asked, since she was chewing her lip again.

"I'm not really much for domestic charms," she said, slowly.

Fishing in his pocket for one of his own business cards, Theo handed it to her. "Think about it. If the cleaning is an issue, there are outside sources I can bring in, which would put you in more of a supervisory capacity. The books will still need to be sorted and inventoried, and there may be some additional artifacts, as well. I'm scheduled to do a walk-through tomorrow afternoon, you're welcome to come along if you like." He glanced at his watch, then signaled the waitress to bring the check.

Hermione turned his card over in her hands, then set it carefully on the table, and Theo felt a stab of disappointment. Then she looked up at him again, and he realized he was being premature, because he recognized her expression immediately: she'd made up her mind. "I'll do it."


	3. Chapter 3 SunFaded Photographs

**Disclaimer:** I'm not J.K. Rowling. I just like to do inappropriate things with her characters.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 - Sun-Faded Photographs<strong>

The house wasn't nearly as bad as Theo had been led to believe, at least for the most part. After his initial walk-through with Hermione, they returned to his office to discuss the necessary details. The majority of the cleaning would be handled by a company he'd done business with in the past, and her compensation for taking on this task was twice what she'd been making at the Ministry. She'd initially refused the amount, thinking he was being too generous, until he had his accountant confirm that the wage was standard for his employees.

A week after she signed onto the project, she and Hugo moved into the house, and he resolved to give her a few days before checking up on her. He already knew, from Blaise, that the decision was a favorable one, the change of career (no chance of conflict with her husband, who was still at the Ministry) and the residence along with the wages would go a long way toward undermining the Weasel's trumped-up case against her. The next afternoon, however, he found her in his office when he returned from lunch.

"Why didn't you tell me it was part of Walden MacNair's estate?" she demanded, without preamble.

"Good afternoon to you, too, Hermione. I trust you're settling in just fine?" Theo ignored her temper, closing his office door before crossing to his desk.

"_Walden MacNair_, Theodore!" Her eyes blazed with fury, her cheeks flushed, her hair wild as if it had taken on a life of its own. It reminded him rather vividly of when they were at school, and it took an effort for Theo to remember he'd promised himself to be professional in his dealings with her. "He was a Death Eater!"

"I fail to see the problem here, Hermione," he replied calmly.

"He _killed_ people! He was the Ministry's executioner for years!"

"I rather doubt he was in the habit of bringing his work home with him, so again I fail to see the issue." He knew that it was best to remain calm, to deal with her rationally, but it was increasingly difficult.

"You expect me to raise my _son_ in a house where a known Death Eater used to live?" she screeched.

Theodore sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and finally said, "The Ministry has already been through it."

"But," she protested, though he didn't allow her to finish whatever it was she was going to say, holding up a hand to cut her off.

"Six times, Hermione. Six separate teams, Aurors as well as Cursebreakers, they've all cleared it of anything that might be considered even remotely dark. It's just a house." Part of him was offended at the implication that he would risk her safety (and that of her son) so casually.

"A house where a _Death Eater_ used to live!" His restraint finally broke, and he rounded the desk, heading toward her. Arguments would serve no purpose, he knew, not when she was so wrapped up in self-righteous indignation. "What are you doing?" she demanded, as he took hold of her arm.

"Making a point," he replied, his voice still calm. "Brace yourself." It was all the warning he gave her before Apparating them both. Even with the warning, he felt her wobble against him when they arrived, and he held onto her until she'd regained her balance.

"Where are we?" Hermione pulled her arm free, then turned so she could face him, the better to focus her glare on him. It was the sort of expression he'd seen her use countless times on her friends, and he wondered if she was disappointed that it didn't affect him in the same way.

"A house where a Death Eater used to live. Come with me." Theo gestured toward an open door, then headed toward it. He didn't have to look back to know that she would follow him, her curiosity would insist upon it.

"Why are we here?" Curiosity, yes, but there was confusion, too, and he wondered if she could have possibly forgotten what little she used to know about him, about his father.

"Patience, Hermione. The answer to most of your questions is in here." In spite of the open door, it wasn't a room that Theo frequented, for a number of reasons. To the casual observer, it was just an ordinary sitting room, the decor quite obviously feminine, and a series of sun-faded photographs hung on the wall opposite the curtained windows. It had been his mother's sitting room, once, and her presence still lingered, at least for him. He'd often wondered if her memory had kept his father from redecorating, or if the man simply hadn't been bothered to care what the place looked like; most days, he suspected the latter.

She glanced at the wall, and he watched her face change as understanding dawned. "This is your house, isn't it?"

"Yes." He didn't look at the photographs, the captured moments of a childhood he often wished to forget; instead, his gaze settled on a place in the middle of the floor. "Tell me, do you sense anything out of the ordinary here?" There were no marks, no reminders, the house elves had been very thorough in their cleaning, but he still knew the precise spot where she had died.

There was silence for several minutes, and then she finally sighed, shaking her head. "No. Nothing."

"You're quite sure? No lingering after-effects of dark magic? Nothing to suggest this is anything more than a house?" He was pushing, and he knew he was pushing, knew he should back off with that conceded defeat instead of risking her temper again, but he wanted to make sure she understood.

"This is the point you're trying to make? No, I don't sense anything. Satisfied?"

He finally looked at her, caught her gaze, watched her irritation and impatience fade at whatever was in his expression. "This was my mother's room," he said, slowly, picking the words carefully because he wanted her to understand but didn't want her to pity him. "Her favorite room in the house. She used to sit in that chair, there, with the basket at her feet, and sew for hours." He nodded toward the chair closest to the windows, the floral pattern on the cushions more faded by sunlight than even the pictures. "There was a piano, over in that corner... it's gone, now, but she'd let me sit with her, while she played, even tried to teach me. My father hated it, hated all her mundane hobbies." His jaw tightened, at the memory, and he felt her hand on his arm, looked down to see the concern in her eyes.

"What happened to her?" Her question was spoken quietly, without an ounce of pity, which was probably why he answered it.

"She died." Theo gave himself a shake, looking away from her. "I was seven. I don't really remember what he was yelling about, but I remember he was angry. I'd never seen him so angry. I don't think she had, either, but she wasn't afraid of him. She should have been, but she wasn't."

"You were there when it happened." It wasn't a question, and still there was no pity in her voice, though there was something else he didn't want to think about too closely.

"At the piano," Theo said, with a nod. "I don't think he even knew I was in here, at first. I've wondered if it would have made a difference, if he'd have done it anyway or waited until I wasn't around. I don't think it mattered, one way or the other." He paused, waited for her to say something, sure that she'd have something to say, but the silence stretched, and finally he just sighed again. "I can still feel her here, sometimes, but I know that it's just me. There's nothing left, of either of them, just me and the house."

"Is that why you bought MacNair's house?" she asked.

"Part of it," he admitted, looking down at her again. "His estate has been tied up for years, solicitors trying to run down a family connection that didn't exist. I don't know if you got into inheritence laws at all, back when you were working at the Wizengamot."

"No, my focus was more on creatures and beings, although I did poke at some of the more outdated pureblooded laws. What I know of inheritence laws is limited to Harry's inheritence."

"Ah, yes, the Black estate. Very neat piece of legal work, that. The Malfoys are still licking their wounded pride over it." He smirked at her confused expression. "If Sirius Black hadn't willed the lot to Potter, it would have gone to Draco. Narcissa was a Black before she was a Malfoy, remember. There are plenty of other families who've intermarried with the Blacks here and there, but no one else's claim was as recent as hers."

She started to say something, but there was a chirping sound from his pocket, and he held up a hand as he pulled out the ornate pocket watch. "Ah, we've been here longer than I realized. Any other pressing issues with MacNair's house? No? Come on, I'll take you back, I'm late for a meeting."

This time, he held his arm out for her, and she took it, her expression wary. "This isn't over, Theo."

He Apparated them to the sidewalk outside MacNair's house, bent to kiss her cheek, and said, "It's just beginning." Then he left her standing there, and headed to his meeting.


	4. Chapter 4  Once Upon a Midnight Dreary

**Disclaimer:** I'm not J.K. Rowling. I just like to do inappropriate things with her characters.

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><p><strong>Chapter 4 - Once Upon a Midnight Dreary<strong>

The weather proceeded to turn foul, as summer ended with something of a vengeance and fall set in. After the confrontation at Theo's office, and the trip to his home, Hermione left him alone; he received news of her from Blaise, who found an excuse to drop in daily and seemed to delight in tormenting his friend with the tawdry details of the dissolution of the Granger-Weasley marriage. Theo could have scolded him for being unprofessional, but he wanted to hear about her more than he was willing to admit, so he suffered through Blaise's visits with his typical display of ill-temper, secretly rejoicing every time he heard she got the upper hand over her philandering ex-husband. Blaise was remarkably efficient, and more than a little ruthless, so it came as no surprise to Theo when the matter was settled in a mere fortnight; he'd be willing to bet that a significant amount of money had changed hands, somewhere, but seeing as how the end result was in his favor, he wasn't about to go throwing stones at that particular glass house.

The night Hermione's divorce was finalized, Theo was tempted to turn up on her doorstep with takeout and a bottle of wine, but he realized such behavior might be misinterpreted and resolved to give her more time to get used to being single before attempting to play his hand. He would admit to precisely no one (most especially Blaise) that he was nervous beyond reason at the thought of finally acting on a crush he'd harbored since boyhood, not least because it was ridiculously juvenile to think of Hermione in terms of just a schoolyard crush when both of them had grown so much. Not to mention the fact that she came with all kinds of baggage (though he knew it wasn't exactly proper to consider her children 'baggage'), and Theo had proven remarkably adept at _not_ accumulating anything that might weigh him down, over the years. It wasn't that he'd never wanted children... he'd just never wanted them with Pansy.

A knock at the door interrupted his reverie, and Theo glanced at the clock, then wondered who could possibly be calling upon him on such a dreary midnight. He made his way to the foyer, ruminating on the appropriate response to be snarled to his unwanted visitor, and threw open the door, his lip already curled in a sneer that promptly vanished upon seeing Hermione (pale, trembling, soaking wet and clutching an equally pale, trembling, soaking wet and surprisingly tall figure that he could only assume was her son, Hugo) on his doorstep. "Hermione."

"I'm sorry," she said, and he could tell by the sound of her voice that not only was she cold and soaking wet from the downpour but near tears, as well. "I didn't know where else to go."

"Come in." Theo stepped back, ushering them both inside, and closed the door against the chill. "You look frozen, the both of you." He drew his wand, drying their clothes with a few deft flicks of his wrist. "There's a fire going in the study, you can warm up in there, follow me." Bypassing the open doorway to his mother's sitting room without looking at it, he led them down the hall to the room he'd occupied alone moments prior. "Sit," he requested, pointing her toward the sofa nearest the fireplace, and he levitated another log into the hearth. "I'll make us some tea."

"Theo," she began, nervously, as she settled on the sofa and pulled the boy into her lap.

"Get warm first," he said, with a shake of his head. "I'll bring you some blankets, too." Without waiting for her to reply, he left the room and sought the kitchen, waiting until the door was closed and warded and soundproofed before drawing his wand and lighting a fire in the hearth, calling for one of the house-elves as he did so.

He waited for the creature to appear, issued orders calmly (tea for three, two of the thick winter blankets to be delivered to the study, and the guest bedroom near the master suite to be made up for company), and waited again for it to disappear before collecting the Floo powder from the mantle and tossing it into the flames to call Blaise.

It took less time than he'd expected for Blaise to answer the summons. "This had better be good, Theo."

Theo didn't bother with what would have been an insincere apology, instead getting down to his reason for the call. "We may have a problem. Granger's turned up on my doorstep."

"You think it's the Weasel?" Blaise looked appropriately eager at the thought.

"I'd like for it to be the Weasel, but something tells me it's not nearly that uncomplicated."

"Maybe she's in desperate need of a shagging."

"She wouldn't have brought the boy, if that were the case," Theo pointed out, though the damage had already been done and now he couldn't get the image out of his head. "How much opposition did we have for the acquisition of the MacNair estate?"

"No more than any of the others, as I recall. Malfoy, for one, but I suspect that was just for show. House of Black, et cetera."

"Anyone else?"

"No one that made a particular fuss, no. Of course, things may have changed once the news got 'round that you had Granger in residence. I'll keep an ear out, shall I?"

"Do that. Lunch tomorrow?"

"Usual place, usual time," Blaise confirmed, before attempting to stifle a yawn.

"I'll see you then." Theo stood and allowed the flames in the hearth to die, pleased to see that the tea tray was waiting when he turned around. He said a curt thanks to the empty kitchen and carried the tray back to his study, where he found Hermione and her son wrapped up in the blankets he'd sent for.

"You keep house-elves?" she asked, with just the faintest note of disapproval in her voice.

"Walby is here by choice," Theo informed her, setting the tray down within reach of her before seating himself in a nearby armchair. "My father freed all of our house-elves after what happened with Lucius Malfoy's former servant." He frowned slightly, as the memory attempted to surface, and shook his head to dismiss it, changing the subject. "How do you take your tea?" As if he didn't know, having watched her back in school; he felt it prudent to keep that knowledge to himself.

"Two sugars and a dash of cream," she replied, studying him with open curiosity that suited her far better than the worry and fear she'd worn when she first arrived.

"And the boy?" Theo asked, cautiously, unsure of how he should address the child since she hadn't introduced him just yet.

Hermione shifted the blanket and smiled, faintly. "He's asleep." She sighed, looking away from him for a moment and chewing on her lower lip, then turned back to offer, "Thank you. I suppose you're wondering why we're here."

"The question had occurred, yes."

"Someone tripped the security wards." Her gaze was level with his, but there was the slightest quiver in her voice. "Several someones, actually. I didn't stay long enough to find out who it was, I was too worried about getting Hugo to safety." Theo nodded his understanding, and she added, "I caught a glimpse, though, just before we Disapparated. Theo, they looked like Death Eaters."

Those two words were enough to freeze him where he sat, the cold settling in so rapidly that he had to suppress his shiver. "That's not possible," he said, his voice flat.

"I know, it _shouldn't_ be possible," she agreed. "I may have been mistaken, the security artifice should have captured images, trace magics. In any case, I couldn't risk word getting back to Ron."

"Of course. You're welcome to stay the night, I've had Walby prepare the guest room." She seemed surprised at his reference of just the single room, so he explained, "I didn't think you'd want to be separated from your son." A pause, and then he added, a bit awkwardly, "Do you... Would you like for me to carry him up for you?"

Her eyes went wide, and he wondered if the question had been a mistake, but then she was smiling at him and moving the blankets aside. "If you're sure you don't mind. I was rather hoping I wouldn't have to wake him up again."

As he led the way up the stairs, the boy in his arms, Theo noted that the child was rather tall for his age, lanky in a way that Theo himself had been, years ago. The Weasley-red hair was sure to have people commenting how like his father he was, but Theo couldn't help noticing the similarity that Hugo bore to his mother, and he found himself strangely touched that Hermione trusted him enough to consider him a safe haven. He wondered, as he bid her good night, how long he ought to properly wait before he made his feelings for her known.


End file.
